Music
-
Last Sunday morning was my first time at the jam session here. Today, my second. It is getting better, sweeter and with more substance. Thanksgiving weekend with friends and music lovers. It’s game weekend in the US. Or shop til you drop. Here jazz music permeates the air we breathe. Unrehearsed of course. But it…
-
It’s my first time at Van’s Cafe, 46 Pham Ngoc Thach, District 1 Saigon on Sunday morning. And I found myself walking into the door with 2 musicians I know: Mr Hai, on base guitar, and Quoc Dat (blind but extremely gifted jazz pianist, and a student of my now deceased friend.). Before I knew it, people…
-
Lighter weight, more affordable, but not necessarily more moving. Those new I-pods. Or I phones. Even on those new devices, you still download your favorite oldies any way. Just make sure your kids don’t see the play list. Or view your 80’s music video, with singers whose jean jacket sleeves were cut-off , while hair…
-
I met a pianist last Sunday. When he told me he was 65, I almost flipped. He happened to be a Judo trainer as well. Wow! He looked 45. Another friend of mine, Jazz musician and software expert, also looks young for his age. What’s the secret sauce? Shirley MacLaine doesn’t look 78. You might…
-
A Quoc Tri could be heard at Cafe Vuong Tron, GoVap on Sunday morning and M-evenings. Other nights, you can catch him at Cafe S, near Du Mien, in Phu Nhua District. This morning his band mate commented him on letting his hair out, and not pony-tailed. We even took an I-phone pic of him, with LOVE on black…
-
On the way to the gym, I saw a casket being carried out of an alley (with funeral band playing “Soi Da cung can co nhau” – pebble and stone still need each other). Then to my amazement, the pall-bearers swung the casket around 180 degrees, dipped it three times without spilling the whiskey glasses on top then, another…
-
One of my first guitar solos was House of Rising Sun. Chu Van An High School music room, with two electric guitars, one bass guitar and a drum set. Long was on bass, Son counted the beat and Hung, son of a dancing instructor, played rhythm. And one, and two: Am, C …. And so we…
-
It reminded me of the scene from Woodstock: long-hair kids, guitar, tatoo and scooters. All converged in an alley. Parking was a problem. I asked neighbors to pitch in: it’s a wake for a musician friend who had recently passed away. His students came from My Tho, those with eye-sights and those without. They jammed, they…
-
On my first week as CEO at UVT – I met an issue none of the Business School in the US had equipped their students for: to bow or not to bow at the Fortune–God altar in the school lobby. It’s hard enough to know where the bathroom is – much less stumbling upon the…
-
As I saw him open the door, I said “Guitar Master”. He after all has played for as long as my memory can serve me: on the roof behind my house, and at various venues in Saigon. Still with that baritone voice and impeccable sense of humor. “You might think I am old, but put…
Thang Nguyen 555 